Even In Death
by Midnight-Hallow
Summary: Inspired by Evanescence's 'Even in Death', hence the title. Full summary inside.None this belongs to me..except the plot line. Characters belong to JK Rowling
1. The after part of Draco's funeral

Even in death 

**Summary**: Set 14 years after their seventh year. Draco tries to shield Harry from Voldemort's ghastly last attempt to kill him, and he succeeds. But the wounds he sustained proved fatal. His ghost lingers on earth, watching over Harry. Slowly, Harry begins to move on and suppress his grief. But with Draco still around, how will he do that? _"Even in death our love goes on…."_

**Chapter summary**: Harry tries to suppress his grief but miserably fails. He reminisces about Draco and attempts to kill himself. Harry stumbles upon a note, stuffed in Draco's pillowcase, that he obviously was never supposed to find.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry, Ron, Hermione or Draco in any way.(Or any other characters mentioned) They all belong to the delightful JK Rowling, and the like. I just sneak over to her house and crawl into her brain so's I can borrow her lovely boys (and girls)for a moment. On with the fic!

* * *

CHAPTER ONE: The after part of Draco's funeral

Harry continued to wonder the labyrinth maze of the winding corridors. The Manor seemed emptier than before. It was cold and harsh. Harry was barefooted, and the cold floor sent chills through his feet. But he didn't feel anything. He was numb. Deaf. Blind. Robbed of his senses.

His eyes were very much swollen, and everything was a blur. He stopped. They weren't red from crying. They were red from trying not to cry. He'd rubbed them so many times, trying endlessly to stop his tears. Harry walked a bit more, unconsciously walking into Draco's room.

His mirrors were draped with black French lace and heavy blinds drawn down to block any ray of light that tried to penetrate the mourning dark. Harry shifted his eyes to the wall on his right. A small smile played at his lips at the sight of it. Pictures, moving wizard photographs and papers were stuck all over it. Harry and Draco were the main focuses of almost every photograph. Only a handful showed a grimacing Ron and a smiling Hermione in candid photographs. A few were of him playing quidditch, catching the snitch. It pained him to look at the photos of Draco. Knowing that he'll never look at them again. Harry rubbed his eyes once again, feeling the prick of tears.

Harry glanced at the papers stuck on the wall. Several were letters from Draco and Harry corresponding to each other. A few were from Ron and Hermione. One was a short play Draco had written, bored on a wintry night. A grin became obvious when he read one of Draco's poems.

'Ere I'd awaken to anywhere but here  
The stench so toxic my eyes have burned  
Somehow I'd been confronted with something so unbearable  
Dead of the night the bright lights shine  
Only at the first light my head begins to throb  
When I awake to find myself in the unbearable plight

It didn't rhyme, or make sense, but Harry knew what he was talking about. During the summer holidays, Draco hosted a party in the Manor (this of course, occurred without Lucius's permission). After having way too much heavy drinks, Draco awoke the next day with a bad hangover. Harry himself had one, and staggered to the toilet to throw up. He forgot his need to vomit when he saw that Draco's head was firmly lodged in the toilet bowl. Despite his throbbing head, Harry leaned onto the door panel and watched him sleep. Draco awoke a few seconds later to vomit. Harry laughed out loud, holding his head. A second later, he pushed Draco aside and used the toilet, suddenly remembering his need to vomit.

Harry blinked himself back to reality. He hadn't slept at all in three days. Actually, he hadn't slept very much ever since Draco had been hospitalized. That was five days ago. Not surprisingly, he felt drained, emotionally, mentally and physically. He was alone.

* * *

He felt as if he were floating. He was barricaded to either move up or sink down, so he was stuck in the middle. Nothing seemed to make noise. The silence was so loud, like thunder in his ears. He knew, clearly, that he was dead. So why was he still here? Wasn't he supposed to be in Heaven? Or at least Hell. He never really thought he'd go to Heaven, after all the cruddy things he'd done. After all the people he'd killed working as a double agent. So where the hell was he?

* * *

He regretted suppressing everything. Harry felt so empty that it had begun to hurt him. The feeling of being hollow began to consume him. That feeling alone raked his entire body, until he couldn't just hold it in His breathing came out in gasps. With every breath he drew, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He finally couldn't stand it. He exploded. He wailed, screamed Draco's name several times and shouting abuse. He cursed himself for being so weak. If he hadn't let his guard down or if he hadn't been so stupid as to get himself so shaken up by the Dementors, Draco won't have had need to defend him.

* * *

It was all so clear to him. He was probably on some astral plane for wondering spirits and ghosts. A parallel realm to the world. There was a thin veil between the two realms, a veil that only lifted prior to midnight. In that one minute, before it becomes 12:01. He tried crossing over; apparently he'd already missed the time. So he waited.

It seemed that time flew by much, much slower here. It felt like forever, literally. If only he knew that at that very moment, Harry was praying for the gods to take him. End his life, so that he could join Draco. If only he knew that it had been three days since the funeral, when Harry last saw his face. When Harry last touched him.

There were several others on the same astral plane as him. Mostly young runaways who committed suicide. Some few were sick and died because of their disease. They were preparing to cross over.

"Is it time to cross over?" Draco asked, vividly aware of how lame he sounded. No one answered him. Perhaps he didn't have a voice. Now that didn't matter. The whiteness around them began to dim into colours- the veil had lifted.

* * *

He punched the wall several times over, making his knuckles bleed. He hated himself. And he hated Draco, for loving him so much. He hated Voldemort even more than before, if it were possible. He hated everything! Hermione overheard Harry's incoherent babblings and came rushing into his room, along with Ron. They found a sobbing, wet mess of Harry Potter. Amongst his incoherent babble, they managed to catch a few words. Words that meant little to anyone outside, but words that Hermione and Ron had thought impossible for Harry to say. Words of loathing, words of despair. Hermione let out a small, soft sob against Ron's shoulder. Although Voldemort had tortured them long and hard, nothing hurt Hermione and Ron more than to watch their best friend suffer. In response, Ron wrapped his arms around her, trying to comfort her while making _sssh_-ing sounds. Harry still lay oblivious to them, crying his heart out, till his tears began to turn red. Hermione and Ron restrained themselves for as long as possible from comforting Harry. So they watched him.

* * *

Draco began to see clearly. He shook his head, as if to wake himself up from a dream. He looked down at his hands. They were translucent, and glowed with an eerie sickness. That scared him slightly. Was he a ghost? Or was this just a dream? No, it couldn't be. He remembered Harry, how he'd protected that Scar- face. He laughed, sadly and silently, realizing how much he had missed Harry. The leaves of a nearby tree rustled. His laughter became the wind that blew the leaves of the trees. He felt despair creeping through his heart- he would never hear Harry's laugh ever again. But he was in the real world wasn't he? So that meant that he could still see Harry. With a sinking hope he realized that _Harry couldn't see him._

Draco pushed that thought to the back of his head. He didn't know how to get around, besides floating. He closed his eyes, and wished himself to be wherever Harry was. The colours around him began to swirl. He was in his old room.

* * *

Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. She loosened herself from Ron's grip, and ran forward to comfort Harry. By now, most of Harry's wailing had become whimpering. She put her arms around him. "It's going to be okay, Harry. It's going to be okay," she cooed in a soothing voice.

"No! It's not Herm! Nothing's ever going to be okay! " Harry yelled, tears running down his face. "Never. Nothing's ever going to be the same again. Draco's gone... Forever! And I'll never see him again!"  
" Yes, Harry. You'll never see him again. But do you think he'd want you to be sad forever? " Ron managed to find his voice.  
" He- he'd want m-me to m-mourn for a-a while…m-maybe."  
" Knowing Draco, that's probably what he'll want you to do. But he'd want you to be happy, remembering him. You love him, don't you?" Hermione brushed his hair aside from his eyes.  
"Yes.. And because of that love, Herm, he died. Because of that love, I was too weak to face the Dementors. I was too weak to stand up to them, making myself vulnerable to Voldemort. And because of that love…" his voice sounded far- off, "He made me the happiest person on earth."

* * *

He was in his old room. He looked around. There, crippled on the floor, was Harry. He was crying, hard. He floated over there, wrapping his ghostly arms around Harry, knowing that he couldn't feel anything. But he knew Harry felt his presence, calming down to whimpering.

"And because of that love…He made me the happiest person on earth."

Draco wrapped his arms even tighter around Harry, never wanting to let go. "I'm so sorry, Harry." He whispered.

He blinked. Ron put an arm around him, and Hermione was humming a soft lullaby and rocking him gently. He was loved, and he knew that. But someone was missing. Draco.

"I'm so sorry, Harry, " he heard the wind whisper to him.

He pulled his arms away from Harry. He didn't need him. Did he? After all, Harry was crying because of his death. Right? Of course. He'll let Harry clam down first, before he tried to make contact. Yes, he'll wait first. He just hoped that he had enough patience.

* * *

A/N : Like it? R&R people! The part where Draco's in his old room again, he hugs Harry before Hermione does.  
ALL RIGHTY!GIMME SOME A-LURVING!


	2. Closure

Even in Death 

**Summary:** Set 14 years after their seventh year. Draco tries to shield Harry from Voldemort's ghastly last attempt to kill him, and he succeeds. But the wounds he sustained proved fatal. His ghost lingers on earth, watching over Harry. Slowly, Harry begins to move on and suppress his grief. But with Draco still around, how will he do that? _"Even in death our love goes on…."_

**Chapter summary:** Draco finally makes contact with Harry, through the Mirror of Erised. Harry thinks he's going crazy, seeing his dead boyfriend no less, and uses a spell to try and suppress his grief. Be warned! (A little) Insubstantial fluff.

Disclaimer : Don't belong to me yaddayaddayadda..I need sleep yaddayaddayadda and shit. READ ALL READY!

* * *

Harry sat still on his bed. Their bed. _Not anymore_. His eyes were puffy, even more than before. His breathing had eventually slowed to normal. He was still alone. Hermione and Ron left him to mourn the loss of his dead lover, though it was against their better judgment. He stared at the ceiling; the high, high ceiling that was so much a Malfoy must have. He closed his puffy eyes, and began to drift slowly off to sleep.

* * *

Draco had watched him tirelessly, 'sitting' on the edge of his bed. He got up and went over to Harry. This was a moment he had never missed to savour when he was alive. This moment where all worries where drained from Harry's mind. This moment when innocence seemed to be the only thing that Harry stood for. Draco traced his ghostly fingers along the contours of Harry's face, staring intently at the face of innocence. He kissed the forehead of his beloved, and stroked the stray hairs away. He was amazed that his finger could even _touch_ him; he'd always thought that he'd go right through him. His touch was cold, soon he learned, for Harry shivered slightly when he'd kissed him. There, he still stood by Harry, watching over him.

* * *

He was in deep sleep. For a moment, he was just standing in pitch-black darkness, unsure of where he was. The darkness around him whirled and grew vivid. They dimmed, expanded and contracted, as if it were alive. The ground he was standing on suddenly disappeared under his feet. He fell long and hard, plummeting to the ground. Harry felt the force of gravity pull on his body, when he gently slowed down. He felt arms, gentle, yet strong arms supporting his weight. He breathe in the smell of musky apple.. The smell of a very familiar Slytherin prince. "D-Draco? Is that you?" he asked groggily.  
"Well, Potter, you were always one for asking stupid questions."  
" Draco.. I don't want to leave you…ever."  
"I know you don't. But I-"  
"Don't leave me, okay? Promise me Draco. Don't ever leave me. Please?"  
"I-" Draco began. Harry could hear his hesitance." I promise, Harry. I promise."

* * *

Harry stirred in his sleep. " Don't leave me, okay?" He reached out, trying to touch Draco. "Promise me Draco. Don't ever leave me. Please?" He pleaded.  
"I-" he hesitated, " I promise Harry. I promise." After hearing this, Harry seemed satisfied his answer. He still reached out again, wanting to touch Draco. Draco reached his hand out, trying to touch Harry. This time, Harry didn't seem to mind the coldness. He groped around trying to catch hold of Draco's hand. "Draco? Draco? Where are you?" He called out in desperation. Some tears had begun to run down his check. " Draco? Please answer me… I don't want to be left alone anymore…. Draco!"

* * *

He woke up, sweating like crazy. He wiped the tears away from his face, along with a fresh flow of sweat. He felt giddy. It was all so real. He _heard _Draco's voice, _felt_ his presence. How could it be that he was dead? He was panting, as if he'd been running. He brushed aside his fringe feverishly and sat up in bed. He'd somehow anticipated Draco to be there, beside him, sleeping like an angel. He sighed, looking at the empty space beside him. He stood up unsteadily, trying to balance himself on his own two feet. He walked out of the room, still very much dizzy. 

Hermione was tinkering about in the kitchen, refusing help from the house elves. Ron was pacing about the hall, worried about the Death Eaters' backlash to avenge their dead leader. A delicious smell wafted across the house into Harry's nose - Herm's cooking. He suddenly felt hungry. It'd been three days since he last eaten, only having cupfuls of water. His face had taken on a sickly colour, and stubble began to grow on his chin. His hair was long enough to be pulled back into a tiny ponytail.His bones were sticking out of places. He was a mess.It was no like him at all. He heard Ron going into the kitchen.

" Give him some time, Ron. It's only been three days since the funeral." He heard Hermione pour her soup into bowls. His sense seemed to sharpen ever since the funeral.  
"But Harry has to be careful. The remaining Death Eaters are seriously pissed off and will do anything to kill Harry."  
"Let him mourn. He's just, after all, lost Draco, someone that's loved him even more than his own flesh and blood. Also, didn't Draco also say that the Death Eaters would be all panicky and afraid? They are lost without the Dark lord to lead them. Didn't he say that?"  
" In all fairness, his own flesh and blood consisted of a dead sister, a dead mother and a psychotic father. Also, turns out that they're not panicky and afraid. They're definitely planning something." Ron's sarcasm made the point very clearly.  
" I think Ron's right." Harry said, appearing behind them.  
Hermione glared at Ron, who only gave a mere shrug." We've got to have a back up plan, just in case they try to attack the Manor."  
"But this place is like a fortress, nothing can get through its defenses. Especially with all the Dark magic protecting this place." Hermione reasoned.  
" They've got past them once. Who's to say they're not going to find another way around them?" Ron said.

There was a tense silence in the room.

* * *

Draco wondered around the Manor, trying to remember all the things he did there. Trying to remember all the things _they_ did there. All the fights they had, and all the happiness they had experienced. The words they had uttered echoed around in his head. How silly it seemed, fighting. It seemed so long ago, like forever ago. He wondered into the kitchen, into a tense silence. He'd always hated silences. They were always so loud, like thunder. But they were hard to ignore. He tried to get Harry to go to the Room of Erised. When he saw Harry turn around and walk away. Success.

* * *

Something made him turn away. Something made him walk away from Herm and Ron, leaving them to decide for themselves. He made his way toward the Room of Erised. He wanted to see Draco's face again…to see him, talk to him and love him again. But he couldn't. The only way Harry could think of seeing Draco's face again was through the Mirror of Erised. Lucius managed to save the Mirror from being destroyed. He had a theory that the Mirror would show him a way to get the Philosopher's stone. 

But that was a decade ago. He kept it in the Manor, for fear of others, trying got get it, to use it for the same purpose. With Voldemort dead, the Mirror lost it's purpose and remain in the room, like an ornament.

* * *

Harry pulled the black French lace away, slowly, from the glass. Somehow, he was reluctant to look into it. He didn't think he could bear seeing Draco's face, and then have it disappear so quickly when he left the Mirror. He closed his eyes as he faced the Mirror. Slowly, he opened his eyes. 

His plan was working. He knew that Harry would see his face in the Mirror. Then, he'll make contact. Draco walked into the Mirror, literally. _C'mon Harry. Open your eyes._ _Look at me._ He prayed. _Look at me._

* * *

Draco. His heart began to skip beats. There he was, staring back at him. He smiled, and waved. Harry felt a strong sense of longing, of want. "Draco…" He drew his hands up, touching the cool surface. More fresh tears flowed down his face. Draco's mouth began to move. Harry stifled a sob after he realized what the words were. " I love you."

* * *

He'd made contact. He reached out, Harry tried to touch him. Harry tried to catch his hand. He looked like a child; trying to touch something only he could see. If their bond was strong enough like he thought, Harry would be able to hear him. Harry, can you hear me? 

'Harry, can you hear me?' He looked around. Where was that voice coming from?  
' Harry, it's me. You know who I am.' How? How would he know whose voice it'd belonged to? Who would- "Draco?" He asked the empty room.  
'You haven't forgotten me.' The voice said, with a very obvious tone of relief.  
"If I had, do you think I would come down all the way here to see your face?" Harry saw the Draco in the Mirror smile gratefully.  
' You don't have to actually speak the words Harry. Anyone else down here would think that you're crazy.'  
"Well, I'm running that risk either way. C'mon, I'm talking to my boyfriend, whom everyone knows to be, well, dead."  
'That's not what I meant. You see, you can just think the words and I'll hear them as clearly as you speak them. That way you don't have to waste breath.' Draco smiled again. 'I hope you know how much I've missed you.'  
' Yeah, I do.' Harry looked down at the floor.  
' I hope you know how much I've loved you.'  
' It's an insult to me that you even asked that.'  
' And I wanted you to know this to; that I never regretted giving my life up for you.'

Harry blinked several times, to stop his eyes from burning. 'Now there are two scars Harry. Two scars of love.' Their hands met, Harry's against his in the mirror. Harry could feel him, but he was cold. After all, after being dead for three days, you've lost all bodily heat. But, somehow, Harry could also feel the warmth in his touch. 'I think, if it were possible, I love you even more than both your parents put together. I love you more than earth itself, more than my entire being. Did you know that, Harry?'

He gave a small laugh, a rather chocked one. 'Now I do. Now I do.' He paused, a little unsure. 'You were never like this, Draco. You've never really opened up to me like that. You seem more human now than when you were alive. It's not that I don't like it, it's just that-..'

'When I was alive, I was in constant fear and endless turmoil, fearing my father, the Dark Lord, and what they might do to us if they found out.' He explained in a soothing tone. 'But now that they're gone, I don't have to worry and be afraid anymore. I should've lived each day with you like there was no tomorrow. Now there really isn't any tomorrow left. Now that I'm dead, only you can see me. Only you. There's no one else that could see me or punish me for loving you, so that's why. Do you understand now Harry?' Of course, Harry needn't answer, Draco knew what he would say. There was a comfortable silence in the room, and Harry could feel the beat of Draco's heart at his fingertips. He didn't know how it was even possible to feel it, but he did. He could smell the musky apple scent that was so familiar. He was home.

* * *

Here, in the Mirror, Draco heard Harry's heart. He could hear the steady beat of it, and savored every moment he was with him. 'But you know Draco,' Harry began, ' Some part of me really hates you.'  
' Why?'  
'Because I love you too much.'  
'Why is that something to hate me for?'  
' Because I can't let go. I won't. I don't want to be left alone here, without you. It's too painful. Will you leave me again, Draco?'  
'No Harry, never. I will never abandon you again.' With this, Harry fell asleep against the surface of the mirror. He pulled his legs up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them. Draco, like natural instinct, put his ghostly arms around the broken mess of grief, and hummed him a lullaby that his mother used to sing to him to stop him from crying when Lucius had beaten him. 

Don't wake now little angel, go back to sleep  
Rest your head now, dream of singing angels and flying pigs  
Though the world is dark now, tomorrow will shine  
When you see the sun rise up again, all your troubles will fade away  
And all of good will rule

Narcissa Malfoy was an odd Malfoy. She was positive and bright, though over ruled by her husband. She thought of bright futures for Draco. She tried so very hard to influence him, but his father was a tyrant. She always sang this lullaby to Draco before he slept, and Draco remembered feeling safe and warm every time his mother would sing it to him. Things like this made her feel like an actual mother to him, made him feel the closest thing to family loyalty. The closest thing to love. When Lucius heard of this, he forever banned Narcissa from singing this lullaby, or her tongue be cut off. No matter how cruel his punishments, Narcissa still sang this lullaby to him. Miraculously, she never got caught. The lullaby was now etched onto his memory, and it did not forsake him. 'Sleep now little angel..'

"Aww, c'mon Mione! You do know how to do it! Please help me," Harry pleaded.  
"No, Harry. It's not healthy, and just plain impossible. I don't know how to help you." She said, while plunking the dirty pots and pans into the sink.  
"Is there no other way?" He pleaded again.  
"Well.. There is one other way."  
" Yes."  
"You'll have to write a verse, preferably a rhyming verse." She wiped the sweat off her brow after scrubbing the pots and pans. "God, this is tiring."  
"You know Mione, Draco's family has house elves for a reason." He leaned his head on his palm and feigned a look of innocence." Are you serious about this whole rhyming verse thing?"  
"Dead serious, Harry."  
" Don't use that phrase.. Ever."  
"Right."  
"Ron, this is serious."  
"Yeah well, ' My panic and grief await for divine intervene' sounds pretty…stupid, don't you think?"  
"Fine." Harry rewrote the spell at the back of the paper.

Inside me a thing I cannot see  
A painful stab at my heart  
My head filled with suicidal thinking  
My sadness and grief, forever I shall weep  
In desperate tone I pray for reprieve  
So that I can breathe

"Okay enough Mione?" He asked anxiously, waiting for her approval.  
"It's your spell Harry. Now, read it aloud, and then burn the paper." And so he did. The fire burned the paper quickly, and didn't even feel hot when it reached his fingers. He waited for the spell to take effect.  
" Harry? Any change? At all?"  
"Maybe his eyes will just pop out of his head."  
"Ron!" she smacked his shoulder. " Any… weird sensations?"  
"No-no …Naw. I'm fine…I think." He said, not quite sure of himself. " Though my stomach's a little…" He stopped there, because he fell flat on his face.

* * *

A/N : R&R PEOPLE. Although i have redone this twice, i see no way of fixing this whole 'Draco's a ghost and only Harry can see him thing.' I guess putting it in his speech seemed fitting..Crap. This is what i get for drinking coffee..(i'm not allowed to have coffee..makes me hyper and uber annoying) 


End file.
